Speechless
by ILikeInappropriateThings
Summary: Seto Kaiba likes pretty things, and to collect them, but finds that inanimate objects aren't quite as intriguing. He finds the most beautiful, whitehaired young lad, and decides he's to be added to the collection. He just isn't too fond of his trinkets disobeying him. Antagoshipping, Eventual psychoshipping (Uke!Bakura) Horrible title, horrible summary, not for the fainthearted.


Eeeeh, I'm back.

I'll update my stories, I didn't LEAVE...At least not permanently.

Just want to give a huge thanks to GirlWhoHasNoName, and CandyassGoth for being themselves and putting up with my infernal ranting, a billion gazzilion jizzilions thank-you's.

I wish I could win a million bucks, or at least just a thousand so I could have people move our continents closer. (And that I could gift someone a Soom Mylo, because girl, you're getting one! One day!)

As for the story

Uke!Bakura, minor gore (Not descriptive), amputation of body parts, non-con, shotacon, swearing, angst, Antagoshipping.

* * *

Brown eyes, filled with anxiety, curiousity and fear all at once darted across the room, and the owner tightened his grip on the blanket around him. Only a few, snowy strands peeked out from underneath the fabric, and Bakura heaved, struggling to breathe as he frantically chewed on his reddening lips. Knees pressed to his chest, he remained defensive in the far corner, staring intensely at the large door, frightened of the outcome when it'd be opened.

He feared it'd be the man with the blue eyes who had brought him home from the auction at the market, and it made him nauseaus to think of.

Bakura shook to the very tips of his fingers, as it knocked on the door. Whining meekly in the back of his throat, he swallowed thickly and watched as it opened, and a person slid inside.

It was the man with the blue eyes.

Flinching when their gazes met briefly, Bakura lowered his head, audibly voicing out his distress with a whine as the other male approached him.

The man stopped in front of him, kneeling, till they were face to face. His stoic expression faded, and he smirked.

"You're shaking - are you scared?" He asked, answering the question with a stroke to Bakura's cheek. "There's no need to be afraid, you're safe right here."

Moving away as much as he thought possible, Bakura gently pushed the hand from his face, unused to being touched in such a manner.

"I'm tired." He murmered modestly, thinking of resisting as the other began to pull the blanket off of him, but remained submissive.

"Of course you are. Listen-my name is Seto, tell me your name, how old are you?" The man, Seto said quietly, almost like a whisper, and Bakura glanced up, unsure of the look he was being sent.

"My name is Bakura, and -" Bakura hesitated, caught off guard when he felt his shoulders being stroked, and he noticed Seto was staring at him, in a way he could only determine as predatory. "I'm 13..."

"You're 13 then? Well, it's nice to meet you Bakura, since you're going to live here, don't you think I should show you around?" Seto suggested, leaving no time for him to answer, and grasped his pale wrist, too harshly for Bakura's liking.

Bakura found himself patting through countless halls, and being introduced to much too many rooms to count, but he could barely remember any. There were so many beautiful things, paintings and sculptures in the large house too, he was in awe, but he was told not to touch any.

They came to a halt outside a door, and Seto's palm made home in his hair, brushing through it and down his back.

"Come, I'll show you where you'll sleep this evening."

Seto tugged in him, and Bakura followed, an unsettling feeling in his gut telling him not to. But he was now owned, Seto explained that he was an ornament, the paintings were too, so he couldn't.

"Sit." The brunette muttered, gesturing towards the bed, and waringly, Bakura gingerly sat by the edge.

Lingering by a desk, cluttered with paper, Seto waited for a moment, before looking out the window, his expression stoic once again.

"I'm a very important person, Bakura. Do not disobey me or talk back." He said, striding back to the whitehaired child. "I brought you here for more than one purpose after all, a creature with such beauty can't possibly just sit around, doing nothing. I wish to enjoy you too, do you understand?"

Alarmed, by the sudden change of atmosphere, Bakura backed away, curling his legs up beneath himself, his eyes locked onto Seto's saphire ones.

"No...Leave me alone." He stated firmly, blurting it out without a second thought, yet, despite his rules, Seto seemed unfazed by the reaction.

"I think we should get to know each other better. I, for one, loathe disobedience. You on the other hand, I think you love... Hmm – to be kissed."

"Kissed?" Bakura repeated the words, mentally baffled. He knew that he was far from well educated, but he knew that kisses were only to be shared by married couples!

"Kissing." Seto assured him, leaning closer, and forcing the child to retreat once again. He smiled darkly, and Bakura could see it in those eyes, he was going to do something to him, and he whined instinctively as he was pulled back.

"No-stop-**stop!**" He protested, slapping at the large, strong palms that had clasped onto his thighs, and were rubbing into still premature and soft flesh.

"Shh-shhh, now be quiet." Seto merely responded softly, forcing Bakura's struggling form to lie prone beneath him with ease.

Breathing raggedly, horrified and frightened, Bakura tried to push the man off of him, but to no avail. The fingers squeezed his legs, up his thighs, and Bakura felt unknown fear creeping in on him. He didn't know what was happening, but it was happening fast, much too fast for his mind to register everything.

He heard himself mewling, and utter noises he'd never heard before, when he saw one of those large palms prying his legs apart.

Kicking wildly when he realized where that hand was going, Bakura cried out in frustration, his face red and flushed. He struggled and fought the best he could, but Seto was stronger, and bit into his shoulder, harshly.

As the teeth sank into his flesh, Bakura full out screamed, confusion, panic and fear controlling him completely. He shrieked, even after the brunette had let go and was sending him a sharp glare, he couldn't stop.

"Bakura, cease your infernal noise immediatly." Seto demanded, and while Bakura did hear him, and wanted to, it didn't work. He squirmed and whined, sobbed and desperately tried to squeeze his legs together, but Seto tightened his grip and jerked in him so terribly hard.

"Stop, stop-please." Bakura finally managed to croak, turning his head away when he caught a glimpse of something in the other's eyes.

"You need to be quiet, Bakura. I am not fond of such...noise." Seto grabbed Bakura's face, a smile spreading across his lips, and his fingers dug into the childs cheek like talons.

"I-I'm sorry." Bakura murmered, starring directly into those chilly saphires, unsure if the sound he heard was the frantic pounding of his heart in his ears.

"I own you now Bakura, I've already told you. You act according to my demands, you speak when I want you to. And you stay quiet when you're asked to. I want none of those pathetic mewls when I relieve myself."

Swallowing deeply, Bakura nodded the best he could muster, tears of complete and utter fear welling in his eyes. He tried to remain as calm as possible as the older male glared down at him in silence, but he was breathing so hard it hurt, his lungs burned and he could barely see through the blurry mess of his own tears.

"Now...See, behaving like a good boy wasn't that difficult, now was it?" Seto crooned, his free hand sliding up and down Bakura's thigh, coming dangerously close to his privates each time.

Bakura hiccupped, so confused and scared he thought the few contents of his stomach would soon reappear. He shuddered and gasped to himself, wincing and crying audibly when he felt two fingers stroking his lips.

"Stop." He mewled, as those invasive digits shoved their way in, and Seto released his face at last. His cheek stung and throbbed, and shapely crescent marks blossomed on the skin soon enough.

"You do not get to give me orders Bakura – Be silent...I am getting bothered having to tell you this again. "

As the digits ventured inside his mouth, Bakura stiffened, and instinctively chomped onto those cold, horrible fingers, chewing down, hard. Seto's eyes widened in brief shock, but not for long, before they narrowed into thin slits, and he struck the child harshly, as if acting on a reflex.

A muffled cry escaped Bakura's lips as he felt the brunette withdraw, and he babbled incomprehensibly, hoping to calm the man, who was curiously inspecting the bruise on his palm.

"You** bit** me." Seto murmered as a matter of fact, quietly and casually, so calmy that Bakura barely noticed the fist connecting with his left temple a second later. He gasped, blinking furiously, as his vision swam, and for a moment, it blackened completely. Shaking frantically, he swallowed thickly to try fighting the rising urge to vomit, and did his best to 'behave' in silence.

Through blue, icy spheres, Seto frowned and gave that shivering, pathetic lump a proper look, smiling faintly as those pale cheeks turned crimson.

Stoic, and determined, he curled up his fist again, striking Bakura – and sighed, pleased, as those brown eyes, filled with such young and bewildered terror, went unfocused.

He took his time watching how the child slumped, and pathetically mewled, his face, save those dark cheeks, completely white.

Waiting for those big, teary eyes to clear up, Seto rubbed up the child's thighs, pleasantly surprised that he found it as intriguing as he did.

He had bedded many women through time, and in spite of their soft physique, he had yet to feel such silken skin on any of them, but this youngster, a male even, was the most beautiful and perfect thing – ever.

And he wished to wreck him.

Noticing a change in the smaller one, and figuring he was slowly regaining his conscience, Seto squeezed those thighs, and loved how that shaking body tensed when he tightened his grip.

"Please." Bakura murmered, hands clenching and unclenching nervously, his uncertain, innocent stare making him curious. "Please don't."

He needed to hear what other sounds such a little creature could make, but he needed no more 'please's, Bakura was his now, a beautiful trinket to add to the collection.

However, said writhing, squirming trinket seemed unaware of this, as of yet.

"Now, Bakura," He purred softly, sliding one palm up the child's face, and the other between his childs. "Hush, my dear. You bit me, and there will be consequences for bad behaviour. If you let me touch you, I'll forgive you, alright?"

Impatient with his response, Seto smirked, grinding the back of his palm into Bakura's crotch till dark satisfaction curdled in his gut, from the sheer he was being sent.

He was so small, so timid, his arms would probably snap like a bird's bones if he squeezed just enough, and he was so terribly frightened. The way he fought and bucked and clammered about as if he had a chance to run – in a way, he found it to be sweet. Foolish, but sweet.

The only thing that annoyed him terribly, was the obsessive yammering, the endless string of 'nostoppleaseplease', he wished only to be rewarded with soft, oblivious moans.

Moving his palm, he pushed on that chubby thigh and spread his fingers leisurely, allowing his thumb to rub persistent circles in the skin, much too intimately, and Bakura once again tried pushing him away.

Without thinking further of his reaction and sudden flare of anger, Seto swatted the child, a spark of pleasure surging through his very core, at the pitiful whine the little one emitted. He gently caressed the reddened cheek, feeling reckless, but thrilled at the same time, for simply inflicting pain on such a frail creature. No harlot put up with such a dark itch, they screamed and fled, swearing to never set foot in his manor. And true to their word, none of them had, but a powerful man needed relief every now and then, all men did, no matter the conditions.

And now, with that shivering body, a simple vessel, beneath him, he realized he'd been looking all the wrong places. He needed not a woman by his side, one who'd spend his money and speak of children and heirs. He needed **that.** Despite of the people's view of male companions, Bakura would surely be the better choice. There would be no worries of unwanted offspring, no talk of weddings and costly arrangments, there would only be him and his antiques.

The warm craving to mar the child's skin and innocence suddenly returned as those large eyes looked at him, and at Seto knew he had to keep him. There was such resistance, confusion and most of all – repulsion, in those dark, teary pools. He skimmed Bakura, wondering what sounds he'd make if he shoved himself in there.

As if he was able to read his thoughts, Bakura's lower lip quivered, and he breathed out heavily before asking.

"Are you going to kill me?"

At this, Seto simply chuckled, and then, he laughed. Palming Bakura's cheek and noting that the tearstained skin was almost burning, he admired what an unexperienced and lovely little thing he was.

To think he would've thrown him out, had he been boring.

"No, I certainly will not kill you, that would be a shame." He murmered, watching relief, and then, in seconds, fear reappear on Bakura's face.

"Then what are you going to do to me?" His words became a mere whisper, and Seto felt a rising urge to show, and not simply tell what he was indeed going to do.

"Are you sure you want to know?" He questioned teasingly, lowering himself onto the tiny body fully, and Bakura groaned in discomfort. Brushing white tresses aside, he nibbed on an earlobe and chewed down, gently, to see what would happen.

"A-agh no, no-stop-" Bakura meekly protested, stopping midsentence to twist and mewl and squirm, his obvious fear fueling Seto's fire.

"I bite back, Bakura." Seto said firmly, biting that pale neck for emphasis.

"S-stop! You said I shouldn't be scared of you!" Bakura spat, panicked, and pushing at Seto. If there had been a flicker of trust in his eyes, it sure was gone now, and...Seto found himself liking it, as much as he did bruising and tugging the child around like a raunchy plaything.

"You need not to fear me as long as you behave, haven't I said so?" He asked, feeling Bakura nod slowly in agreement. "I don't harm good little boys, who are quiet. And you are a good boy, aren't you?"

"...Of course." Was his hesitant answer, and Seto decided to test this.

Without a word, he grasped Bakura's narrow hips, turning him over, and pulled in the large shirt till it bunched up over his waist.

"What...-What are you doing?" Bakura whimpered, and Seto shushed him as he checked if he was firm like he suspected, but the damned child would not stop.

"I didn't do anything wrong." He said sobbing, then, repeated the sentence again. "I didn't do anything wrong at all."

"Shh, you** promised** you were a good boy Bakura, you're getting on my nerves." Seto muttered, having had enough of 'no'.

"I am, I am, but you're-you're hurting me." Bakura groaned painfully, and Seto caught himself having unconsioucly pressed the boy's head into the matress, just a bit too harshly. Or perhaps not?

Seto didn't respond, but instead continued to shove that little head down, till he could feel Bakura was beginning to choke. He had never found it appealing to test the patience or stamina of a simple whore, but the way Bakura clenched and unclenched his tiny fists and fought so hard, excited him beyond what he thought possible. Bakura clawed at the sheets in frantic desperation, and Seto knew he was no longer thinking of 'please's, so he watched him, hearing the blood pumping in his ears. There were no childish objections or pleas of negotiations, there was only him, and absolute power.

Finally, Bakura's manical struggles got the best of him, and he felt a heel dig harshly into his abdomen. Folding over in half, he coughed, watching Bakura cower away to the headboard and clutch his shirt.

"**Don't** touch me." That runt had the **gall **to say, his voice filled with such...-Authority, as if he believed he had a mind of his own.

"Bakura, come back here." Seto hissed, because Bakura was his, if he wished to touch, he would, and if he wanted silence, he would have it.

"No, you're...You're weird - I feel weird and it's your fault." Bakura spat, rubbing goosebumps off his arms.

"Let me explain to you, so that you'll understand-" Seto said softly, refusing to let that brat have his way, and crawled towards him. "You're mine."

"No, I'm not." Bakura insisted, though his voice wavered so sweetly, and like he thought he'd stand a chance, he jumped off the bed, in a pathetic attempt to avoid the inevitable.

As quickly as he'd gotten up, Seto followed, and pinned him to the floor in one move, swift as a hawk diving upon a tiny mouse.

"You're so disobedient...We'll really have to change that." He drawled, liking the feel of their bodies rubbing together, as Bakura bucked and kicked and cried anew. He screamed and he called for help, spluttering with fear when Seto pressed against him and laughed, because he was simply adorable.

However, despite how appealing the child's utter defeat was, Seto had no need of nosey maids yammering about his cravings. Bakura was young, younger than the women that he usually bedded, perhaps too young in the publics' eyes. He needed the maids to keep quiet, he needed everyone to keep quiet. But most important, he needed Bakura to stop complaining.

Ignoring another string of insults and pleas for mercy, Seto looked down at Bakura, that thrill of power running through his spine yet again. He was so small, so helpless and feeble, and Seto ran his palms up those chubby, heated cheeks. He poked his thumbs into that mouth, feeling and prodding around. It was warm and slick inside, and he itched, with a brief, but horribly tempting longing to rip that tongue out, Bakura would be so quiet then.

What if he did it? Bakura had no use of that tongue, other than the obvious, and Seto would easily find alternatives to please his manhood. And he'd only become more rude with age, his mouth would become filthy and it always was best to get to the root of the problem.

He couldn't possibly do that, could he?

That wouldn't be right.

...He **could**, couldn't he?

As if he'd read his mind, Bakura tried shaking his head, tried to chew on his fingers, but Seto felt no pain all of a sudden. All he felt was his hands, slowly reaching down to wrap around that frail, thin neck that'd snap if he wasn't careful. And then, he squeezed.

He nearly smiled, watching those brown eyes flicker hopelessly, in awe, and he squeezed even harder, wanting the last little spasm before Bakura's conscience would slip.

* * *

Moaning loudly, Bakura clawed at the sheets, eyes rolling back into his skull, and soon, he lay limp, covered by Seto's heavy form.

Seto slowly released that swanlike neck, grazing the fine jawline, and he wondered when those red marks on it would turn blue and green.

Carefully, he checked for a pulse, much too delicious pleasure flaring up within him when the vein underneath his fingertips weakly fought on. He stroked the soft skin, leaning down and kissed those silky lips, uncaring that he recieved no response.

Climbing off the bed at last, quite reluctantly, Seto ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He'd have to find someone who could perform surgery, because despite how appealing it was to imagine carving out that pesky organ, the runt would surely bleed too much.

He knew nothing of making stitches either, he didn't sit around sewing like some dumb woman after all.

However, corrupt doctors would only need so much concealed cash to cross their ethical boundaries, he knew that all too well.

With a look of content, Seto smoothed out the soft silks on the bed, satisfied that he'd he seemed to have found something that finally piqued his interest.

It only needed a mild adjustment, and it'd be perfect once finished.

Bakura groaned.

He couldn't wake up. He had to, but he couldn't. His body hurt, down to his fingernails.

There was a buzzing in his ears, followed by harsh, periodical jabs of pain from a migraine. It tasted like copper in his mouth, like blood.

Sitting up slowly, he gently held his head, feeling exhausted, worn out, and tired, in a way he couldn't describe with other words than – Dry.

He opened his eyes, looking into his lap and let them adjust to the dim light.

Suddenly, something brushed across his back, stirring him from his peace, and he jerked nervously with a yelp, finding himself staring into cold blue eyes again.

"I thought you'd never wake up." Said the brunette, rising from a chair by the bed. "I'm glad you did though."

Bakura stiffened reflexively, mental images swarming his head as he looked at Seto, whose superior expression seemed to never fade.

"Now, now, there's no need to be so tense - and don't give me that defiant look of yours. We're just going to talk." Seto murmered, putting emphasis on the last couple of words, before he settled at the edge of the bed, a smile on his lips.

He didn't wait for a response, instead, he peeled the covers off of Bakura, recieving little to no resistance, because he was simply too tired to protest and fight.

Looking down, Bakura aknowledged, yet refused to seem fazed by the lacy, flimsy nightgown he'd been put in. The thought of anyone stripping and redressing him in his sleep was worse than the tiny dress itself.

"I found you something proper to wear, this is much better than that dreadful scrap you came here in. Don't you agree?" Seto said as a matter of fact, gently patting his thigh for emphasis yet again.

Bakura withdrew with disgust, but Seto followed him and played with the little strap that hung loosely on his shoulder, tugging and rolling it between his fingers.

"Is there something wrong with it?" He asked, meeting Bakura's eyes squarely. "Tell me the truth."

Nodding numbly, Bakura looked off and stared at his lap, doing his best to ignore those adventurous digits brushing past a nipple. Anything to keep the older man at peace.

"Then what seems to be the matter with it? I think you look simply divine. So tell me." Seto declared, retreating at last.

Bakura swallowed hard, finding it difficult, but sighed, and gave in.

"_But it's for a woman._" He said, hearing nothing but incomprehensible _**noise**_ passing his lips when he did. Repeating the statement, exactly like he did before, he listened to himself – moaning a various string of absolute nonsense.

"I didn't quite hear you?" Seto asked all of a sudden, the devious, painfully smug grin on his face now evident as Bakura looked at him, baffled.

"_It's...-for a woman..._" He tried again, but it was a muffled, gurgled mess, and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Bakura, you'll have to explain to me what's wrong, or I'll take it you like that nighty as much as I."

Shaking his head vigorously, Bakura grunted in protest, ashamed, and frightened yet again.

"Well, if you don't want to answer me, there isn't much I can do about that. There are some things I can change, or fix, however - " Seto muttered softly, leaning in closer and cupped Bakura's face, with that smile and those blue eyes so close to him. "Such as our little quarrels. We won't be having any of those anymore, I made sure of it."

Bakura's breath hitched, and he attempted to lick his dry lips, wanting to deny that his suspiciouns weren't true. When there was no reaction in the back of his throat, other than hot, tight **pain**, he covered his mouth with a terrified, muffled sob, as the realization of what had been done to him sunk in.

Sweaty and cold all at once, he hicupped and whined, making eye contact with Seto, who began to coo and stroke his hair.

"Shhh, child, there's no need to cry. The stitches are fragile, they'll succumb under too much pressure, so still your tears." Seto said, his voice quiet, nearly peaceful. He used his thumb to rub the tears off, but it felt weird, and Bakura sobbed hopelessly, because he could not object.

"You were given something to soothe the pain before the procedure - but it's surely not as effective anymore. Are you in pain at the moment?"

Nodding, and trying to mumble a yes, Bakura ignored the goosebumps that littered his skin as Seto caressed his neck. He stared into his lap, unable to comprehend what was going on, and sniffled.

"Then do you wish for me to relieve that pain?" He was asked, and he nodded again, feeling the tightening in his throat increase, and the taste of copper became prominent.

"Good, I will get it for you." Seto gave him a short kiss on the forehead, and stood, walking back to the door where he lingered, looking thoughtful.

"Don't try and run away." He muttered, distressed, and finally left the room.

Alone, and awake at last, Bakura glanced out the window, tears welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth slowly, carefully, daring to put in a single finger, and gently touched the stitches where his tongue **used** to be. It was ridged, painful, and there was just a slight tinge of blood mixed with saliva on the tip of his index when he withdrew.

His cheeks heated up, and he gasped brokenly, trying to fight back the tears he knew were inevitable to prevent, but they eventually spilled, trickling silently down his face. Whimpering in selfpity, Bakura's fists clenched and unclenched themselves, and with a frustrated, broken sob, he embraced the raw reality he'd been put in. He cried quietly, hiding himself from everything, under the blankets, and covered his ears because he didn't wish to hear what was rest of his voice.

A warm, moist spot formed under his face, and his head hurt even worse, but he merely curled up within himself, hugging his stomach and wept.

He felt disgusted and dejected, and he buried his face in his arm, wanting to be somewhere else so badly. There was no telling what Seto would do to him, not after **that**, and his heart flopped in dismay at the thought, if anything worse could happen.

If only he'd hidden, hidden from Seto so he would never have bought him. He would've been beaten and kicked and yelled at, but it was better, better than any of the things that blue-eyed monster had to offer.

However, it wasn't the case. He'd been brought somewhere to stay, and he was stuck. He was stuck, and he couldn't leave.

As his tears and sobs were slowly reduced to mere whimpers and sniffles, he gingerly grabbed the pillow nearby, and squeezed it hard. Laying his head down and chewing the fabric nervously, he closed his eyes, trying to relax not only his body, but his mind as well, as he braced himself for Seto's arrival.

* * *

Yes, I think I just carved out Bakura's tongue. No he will not be getting it back, it's permanent.

I will update as soon as possible, if anyone's interested, since I know how whacky this is .


End file.
